


You Look Like Yourself

by Offbrand_Bepis



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: And probably therapy, Angst, F/M, Jasper is no longer a confederate soldier, Jasper needs a hug, because I said so, hella angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26096830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Offbrand_Bepis/pseuds/Offbrand_Bepis
Summary: Big sad for Jasper. And before you ask, no I'm not projecting. I'm fine. I pinkie promise.Also vamps can cry so... yee.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big sad for Jasper. And before you ask, no I'm not projecting. I'm fine. I pinkie promise.  
> Also vamps can cry so... yee.

Jasper had become well acquainted with crying. It could be classified as a hobby, he did it so often. From his time in the Union up to now, he never really talked to anyone about it. He had always possessed this innate ability to feel other people's emotions. Other people’s sadness topped with his own stewed in his head for so long. There had been many instances where he just wanted to lie down and stop moving.

He never found a true motivation to continue existing, only temporary satisfaction. It had worked until now so he thought he would just continue to do that. But it wasn’t working now. Nothing was working now. He couldn’t get up. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t move. Everything was weighing down on him like some sort of press in a workshop.

It was grueling. He could look around at his family, all enjoying what they were doing. Alice was braiding Rosalie's hair, Esme and Carlisle were dedicated to the movie that they had put on, Emmett was pestering Edward about something ridiculous, and Jasper used to be reading a book he had picked up but now, now he was just trying to find something to get him up. To get him to move, to do something.

But he couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find anything. Nothing was in focus anymore, all he could feel was his body’s pleas, desperate and desolate, to move.

Just move.

Get up.

Do something, anything!

And still, there was nothing. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, but they couldn’t hear him. He was running around, begging them to listen to him, but they couldn’t see him. Tears forming feebly in his eyes, but they wouldn’t pay attention. A distant sound passed his ears. Growing louder and louder until- “Jasper, I know you can hear me.” A hand wove in front of Jasper's face.

His eyes examined the room again, looking from his page to his brother and back. “So what do you think?” Emmett gestured toward Rosalie's hair. Two loose braids tied from the front of her face to the back of her head into a delicate bun surrounded by flowers. “Pretty,” Jasper responded, finding a new temporary distraction. He put his book down and placed his feet on the ground.

The smooth, worn, living room carpet usually felt uncomfortable to step on with bear feet, but knowing what just happened, it felt better than heroin. Rosalie’s hair was done, Carlisle and Esme finished their movie, and Emmett had found something to do other than bother Edward, and the night had come to an end. 

Jasper was so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even realised he was already in his room. Alice was sitting at the end of their window, kicking her feet at the trees. She looked almost ethereal in that lighting, her hair flowing in the wind like a raven black fire. The flyaways on the top of her head strayed away from the body of her hair. Her beauty was captivating, almost consuming, the only thing he could stare at, so, unbearably, gorgeous. 

In his trance, he was compelled to speak up, but he feared that would scare her into falling out of the window. He walked up to take a seat next to her. When he got to her level he could feel her fear. She looked completely fine on the surface, but something inside of her was fostering unabashed horror. The kind of terror she only got from her visions.

“Are you okay?” Jasper looked to her in concern. She turned to face him, looking completely serious. “Are you?”


	2. Jasper Hale is not okay

Why wouldn’t I be? The last words that had left Jasper's mouth for the past night. "You tried to- in your future you, you-" Alice's breath hitched when she tried to say it. They both knew what she was trying to say, though. He rifled with her emotions for a while to put them at ease, comforting her, holding her, stroking her hair. She was calm by midnight. 

If only they could stay there forever. 

The sun making it’s triumphant rise against darkness illuminated the front of Alice’s face, outlining her features in an angelic glow. Most people would compare her to a pixie, with her crazy hair and short stature. But Jasper would compare her to an angel, she was his savior, after all. And by god, was she beautiful.

A loud noise from the floor below them got Alice booking it. Jasper calmly got up to follow her, stopping at the top step. He observed the chaos going around at the bottom of the stairs. He stepped down onto the first step, or, he tried. He couldn’t move his legs, it was happening again.

Why? Why here? Why couldn't he stop anywhere else? His legs wouldn’t give out, even if he tried. Moving them was impossible. Almost as if they were stuck to the ground like a rat in a glue trap. Stuck, helpless, nothing anyone else could do to get him back without harming him. He began to spiral down into a darker crevice in his mind that he hadn’t visited in a while.

“Jazz hands! Get down here!” Emmett yelled from down stairs. “I can’t.” Jasper muttered under his breath. “What?” Emmett shouted. Tears began to form in Jasper's eyes. Why was he crying, it's not like it hurts. He's just doing this for attention. He's completely fine. He’s not paralyzed. Just move!

But, “I can’t.” Jasper’s voice shook as he admitted it. He didn’t want attention. He needed it. 

The next thirty minutes were absolutely horrendous. First, his vision was obstructed from the constant river of tears and rubbing his eyes dry. Then, his breaths became shorter, more compact, like he was in a small box with limited oxygen. And in the last second, he lost it. Hysterical chokes, uncontrollable sobbing. He tried to convince his siblings that he was fine, but the tears falling from his already red cheeks advised against it. 

A white noise in the back of his head was growing steadily louder, drowning out the panic of people around him. A sort of dead air static. A complete solitary confinement. Solitary wouldn’t be so bad, now that he thinks about it. His mind is already so far gone. His stability bent in half. He was probably crazy.

No. No way. Probably crazy? Hell no. He has trauma. He is not crazy. I am not crazy. Everyone has problems, his are just a little amplified. That's all. Not crazy. He feels fine, do they feel fine, he feels fine. If he keeps saying it will he be fine? That's the idea!

But he’s not fine, and he needs to stop saying that. He’s been telling his family that he’s fine for well over fifty years now. Jasper Hale is not okay. He never has been. And this isn’t the 1950’s anymore. He is allowed to feel emotions. Especially when he feels emotions that aren’t even his own. He doesn’t deserve to feel this way.

He doesn’t deserve it.


End file.
